What have I done wrong today?

The day started badly.  Youngest son; Rex - the King of the household woke me up at 2 minutes before my alarm was due to go off.  At the moment "I need a wee" and "I did a wee in my bed" sound more or less the same so I race downstairs to check on the bed.  It is damp.  Fortunately the duvet is safe and I didn't actually need to get up straight away this morning.  As I spent the hours between 2am and 3am persuading Rex that it was night time I think I might doze for another 45 minutes.  Rex has to come with me, I try to put him in Pip's bed without waking her.  He starts to scream.  Before whole household is woken I threaten him with the garden if he makes a noise and sneak him into my bed.

I say "my bed".  During the six week break, I got used to thinking of it as "my bed" as Depressed Aggressive and Neurotic husband played computer games and watched films until 5 o clock in the morning then fell asleep on the sofa.  Every night.  So I had almost forgotten that I needed to inform anyone or ask permission when I carry smallest child into our room.

Rex is not inclined to sleep anymore.  "It's morning" he announces and then snuggles into his Daddy's back to get him to turn around and kiss him.

And so all hell breaks loose.  06:45 is apparently the time at which Dan's alarm is set.  Anytime before that is not acceptable.  He has to get to school and run a department.  "So do I..." I venture quietly, which is a mistake.  His department's bigger than my department.  His school is  rougher than my school.  His head is much more unreasonable and power hungry than my head.  Rex and I run downstairs and I get breakfast for everyone, make lunches, empty the dishwasher, discover it has broken, handwash everything, empty the washing machine and put another wash in before the economy seven time runs out, dress the toddler, make coffee, and then, as I am just about to run upstairs to drink coffee while I straighten my hair I am summoned unceremoniously to the top floor.

I am once again in disgrace.  "Where is my shirt?"
"Which shirt?"
"Any shirt!"
"In the ironing pile?" I venture.  This is the wrong answer, and two minutes later, still in my pyjamas with fluffy hair, I am ironing three shirts.  It looks like I am now going to start ironing twice a week.

I wonder how it gets this way for me and many other women.  For me I think it started with maternity leave - it may have been early but I struggle to remember my life before then.  On maternity leave it suddenly makes sense, we were both working full time, now I am at home.  Then eventually I am back, but only part time.  So it falls to me to vacuum, to cook dinner, to iron, to wash, to load the dishwasher.
Even when we both reduced our timetables to 80%, I still took the lion's share.  I was not the one with responsibility.  Or not the right kind of responsibility.  

And then it's too late... I cannot simply rejoin my career, may as well have another baby.  And until biology changes I can't see an easy way out.